GUESS WHO'S COMING TO PLAY POKER
by Aeiu
Summary: Missing Scene From The Crystal Duck.  Not Everyone is Happy to Meet Mark.


GUESS WHO'S COMING TO PLAY POCKER

By Aeiu

"I can't believe Hardcastle is bringing that," Judge Mary Graves exclaimed as she groped for the right word, "felon to our card game."

"It is pretty nervy," agreed Bailiff Clyde Massive. "How did he talk you into it, Gault?"

Judge Gault looked sheepish as he tried to explain. "That's why I asked you to come over early so I could warn you. Several months ago, I made a bet with Hardcastle. I lost and he's calling in his marker."

"What kind of bet?" asked Lieutenant Fred Hardly of the Los Angeles Police Department.

"I heard Hardcastle was trying to find another candidate for that rehabilitation scheme of his," continued Gault. "After that disaster he had with Beal, I told him he was crazy. But he swore he could make it work, all he needed to do was find the right man. So we made a bet. If it didn't work he'd have to come here and admit that he had been wrong from the beginning, but if it did work then he got to bring his man to the game to meet us."

"But why our card game?" protested Graves.

"He knows what we all think about his little project," groused Gault. "He wants to rub our noses in it."

"Who's to say it working?" pointed out Massive. "It's only been a couple of months."

"The police and the D.A.," retorted Hardly. "After proving Martin Cody was a killer and then bringing in Joe Cadillac and his cronies even Frank Harper is beginning to think Hardcastle might have got it right."

"If you ask me," said Graves, "that McCormick character should be back in jail after stealing another car and nearly getting that officer killed."

"You won't get an argument from me," agreed Hardly, "but the D.A. didn't want to risk it in front of a jury. He said they'd either throw the book at him or give him a medal.

"I guess he's slipping through on a technicality," snickered Massive. "Maybe we can ask Hardcastle track him down and bringing him to justice." The poker clutch laughed at the idea.

"It'll only be for one game," said Gault. "How bad can it be?"

"Yeah," said Hardly. "Just remember to keep your wallet where he can't get to it."

Mark McCormick, ex-Judge Hardcastle's last attempt rehabilitation project, fidgeted as he rang the doorbell at the grand estate while Hardcastle fussed at the imaginary lint he thought he saw littering the parolee's shirt. McCormick didn't understand why but he knew this afternoon game was important to the judge who had spent most of the day giving him instructions about proper poker decorum.

McCormick sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was make nice in front of a bunch of stuffed shirt judicial cronies but when you're hiding an unauthorized ex-felon in said judge's gatehouse you can't be too picky on any opportunity to keep the guy out of the house. He hoped his ex-cellmate would find a job and move out before the Hardcastle, or worse, Sarah Wicks, the housekeeper, discovered the trespasser.

"Don't worry," said Hardcastle misinterpreting the sigh. "You'll do fine. They're all real anxious to meet you."

"I'll bet," said McCormick as he tried to force a smile.

The front door swung open. "Hello, Milt" said Judge Gault as he blocked entry into the house and cast a critical eye over the curly-haired interloper. "This must be your latest project."

"This is Mark McCormick," said Hardcastle as he gestured towards his friend. "McCormick, this is Judge Robert Gault."

"I prefer to be called Judge Gault, Mark," The host said as he turned and led them into the den. McCormick sighed again as entered the house. It looked like it was going to be a long afternoon.

The icy blast which met them as they entered the den was caused partly by the air conditioner and partly by the cold reception. Gault's other guest sat huddled together around the poker table as they stared at the young ex-con with various degrees of suspicion and resentment.

"Anxious to meet me?" McCormick asked skeptically in a soft whisper as he leaned over to his parole officer.

"Don't worry," Hardcastle answered confidently, "they'll warm up to you."

Gault made the introductions as they sat down to play poker. McCormick grabbed a seat between Graves and Hardcastle. He kept his friendly smile firmly affixed to his face as she noticeably stiffened in her chair at his approach.

"So," said Hardly casually as he dealt the first hand, "According to your file, you're a car thief. How many was it? Three?"

"No," Gault piped in. "He was only convicted of two thefts. The other one hasn't been filed with the court." Though unspoken, the word yet echoed in the room like an open accusation.

"Let's see," said Graves. "One was a Porsche and one was that race car. You do seem to favor expensive cars."

"I'll bet you got Hardcastle pretty worried over his Corvette," laughed Massive.

"Not really," said McCormick as his smile turned brittle. "He keeps me chained to the radiator at night so he doesn't have to worry about the car or the family silver."

Gault and his friends paused as if to consider the validity of the ex-felon's statement as Hardcastle came to his defense.

"The true owner of the race car gave it to McCormick as a gift. He's been keeping his nose real clean. He helped bring Martin Cody up on murder charges and got the goods on Cadillac and his mob."

"So I've read," admitted Gault reluctantly.

"You're a pool boy now," observed Graves. "If this game is too expensive for you, we'd understand if you wanted to bow out."

"Don't worry, old Hardcase, let's me keep whatever I can steal from his guests," McCormick said as he inwardly laughed at their looks of shock and the loud familiar groan from the other side of the table.

"Crime is everywhere," said Hardly as he threw his bet onto the table. "The crooks are getting bolder every day. Did you know one of them even broke into the police impound lot?"

Hardcastle kept his head down as he added his bet to the pile and thought back on his recent foray into the criminal life when he and McCormick illegally entered the police impound lot to retrieve the files that saved Joe Cadillac's son.

"No!" exclaimed Graves as she clucked her tongue in shock and raised her bet. "Was anything taken?"

"That's the odd thing," said Hardly as he shot a glance at McCormick who prayed Hardcastle would be able to keep his mouth shut. "It seems some car thief broke into the place just to move the cars around. Still a crime, though."

"About that," began Hardcastle only to be interrupted by a loud crash.

"I'm sorry," said McCormick as he bent down to pick up the tray of sandwiches that had fallen to the floor when he struck it with his elbow. "I guess I didn't see it. Oh well, ten second rule," he added as he piled them messily on the tray and shoved one into his mouth.

He shot Hardcastle a warning glare as he mentally shook his head in disgust. It seemed his judge wouldn't be satisfied until they were both jailed for their rescue of Father Atias. This group didn't look as understanding as Lieutenant Carlton. "I call, full house, tens over nines."

The other players grudgingly threw their cards on the table.

"Pretty lucky there, Mark," Gault said as he watched McCormick add the small pile of chips to his stack.

The next couple of hands went relatively quickly. The insulting and patronizing remarks were kept to a minimum. Hardcastle gave McCormick a nod of approval sure that his parolee was beginning to win over those who had disapproved of his 'retirement plan'. A few small pots had passed between the players. A large pot sat in the middle of the table waiting to be claimed by the superior hand.

"I've got a straight," said Gault with a large grin as he reached over to claim the money.

"Not so fast there, judge. I've got a flush." McCormick said as he laid out his hand.

Gault sat back in his chair and glared over in disgust as the dimpled winner raked in his winnings. "It seems your luck is still running strong, Mark."

"That's skill, judge," said McCormick as he leaned back in his chair with relaxed grace.

Gault studied Mark for a moment and reached a decision. "Do you smoke, Mark?" he asked as he coolly reached into his pocket and pulled out his shiny cigarette case.

"Not anymore," McCormick answered with some regret.

"Well, perhaps later," Gault set the case on the table near McCormick as he quietly accepted his friends' nods of approval.

McCormick perceived the silent signals that went around the table as he considered the reflective cigarette case placed by his elbow. "_If that how you want to play it", _thought McCormick as he prepared to move the game to another level.

"_God, I love dupes," _reflected McCormick as he added more chips to the ever-growing stack which sat in front of him. _"They can never believe that they're being played."_

The consortium of legal minds around him had made it more than easy for him. First, Gault seemed unaware that reflections work both ways thus giving the graduate of the San Quentin School for Card Sharks a full view of Gault's hand while McCormick chose which cards he allowed the cheating judge to see. The room was filled with other reflective material which could readily be used by anyone observant enough to see their potential. Plus everyone, including his glowering employer, had enough habits and mannerism that a blind man would know what they held in their hands. Best of all, the more he annoyed them, the more reckless they were in their betting in a desperate attempt to put him in his perceived place.

"_Like taking candy from babies," _reflected McCormick as he forced down a large mouthful of the bland tasting dip and gave a flirtatious wink to Judge Graves who visibly shuddered in disgust. The only down side was the large number of kicks to the shin he had received from the unsubtle Hardcastle. From the number and increasing strength of the blows, McCormick was sure he'd need a cast before the afternoon was done.

Hardcastle gave his Tonto a hard smile as he delivered another blow. He felt a small savage thrill of glee when he saw the young man flinch as the parolee pulled in the pot that Hardcastle had thought would be his. He couldn't understand what had gotten into McCormick. Sure, Gault and his friends had been less than friendly at the beginning but they seemed to have been warming up to him. Now it was like he was deliberately trying to provoke them. Hardcastle had wanted to prove to the naysayers that his rehabilitation project could work and to give McCormick a chance to expand his circle of friends to a more law-abiding citizenry. Hardcastle decided at the next break, he would drag the man into the kitchen by the collar and read him the riot act.

"_At least, it can't get any worse," _thought Hardcastle as McCormick pulled in another pot and tried to move his injured leg away from the strike zone.

Meanwhile, just outside the house, a petty thief named Teddy Hollins steeled himself for his first armed robbery.

THE END


End file.
